


the trail leads back to you

by formosus_iniquis



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, original characters because i couldn't justify only using the same three av characters again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/formosus_iniquis/pseuds/formosus_iniquis
Summary: When Sam's invited to another theatre house party, he's set on not going. Until Peter proves once again that he will work himself to death without Sam's intervention.No good deed goes unpunished, and now Sam is part of an accidental couple's costume. What better time than a party to have a huge relationship crisis?





	the trail leads back to you

**Author's Note:**

> Did I spend longer deciding whether to use a line from the Classic Scooby Doo theme or the What's New Scooby Doo theme than I did editing this fic? Yes, yes I did. But that's what happens when a work is just entirely an excuse to dress up one otp as another

"Are you coming to the party at the Hive this weekend or are you gonna bitch out again?"

Sam could only look up from his MacBook, one of his headphones dangling from his ear while the other blasted his study mix of pop queens and the acoustic indie that Peter had gotten him hooked on. With an hour to kill before his next class was supposed to start he was only a little confused that Kara had managed to find him in the back corner of the fifth floor of the library. He was really more surprised that she came alone.

"It's not bitching out, it's called being a commuter."

Sam had half a chapter left that he was supposed to have read by his next class, and he knew it would stay that way as Kara grabbed the chair that was next to him and pulled it even closer. "A commuter who has friends who live on campus. Give me another excuse, really, I'm waiting for it." Kara's smile was smug, the kind of smug where there were too many teeth and her tongue piercing clicked against them.

"I've got a paper due on Tuesday." And he hadn't even started it, what good were excuses when they were actually real things that needed to be doe.

"Good thing it's Wednesday and the party is on Friday, try again."

"I don't want to go," Sam tried. Just like he had genuinely tried to combat his ADHD brain and get his reading done for class for once. He didn't think his professor would accept, I'm constantly being sabotaged by my own brain and occasionally by my friends as an excuse for not having it done.

"Wrong, Tati and Sissy are both going to be there. They've already got their costumes picked out. One more try."

"Why is I don't want to go not a good enough answer. I see Tati and Sissy all the time." Sam asked.

"Lies. Sissy has been as good as dead since rehearsals started for Into the Woods and Tati-"

"And I have English 100 with Tati, I saw her yesterday."

"Ugh, how about I never see you. You're only here for class and then you fuck off home."

Sam, who knew a losing battle when he saw one, closed his computer so he could look Kara in the eyes when he told her, "I'm a commuter."

"I hate you. I'm leaving."

"Bye, don't send Sissy up here next they're going to come back with the same answer you got."

"See if you get my free ticket to the dance show now," Kara shot back in a voice way too loud for a quiet floor of the library.

"Wait," Sam said, he was definitely going to be asked to leave the library at this rate. Kara paused, looking at him with her cut eyebrow raised. "It's November why do they have costumes picked out."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Sam's ultimate misfortune in this life was that he had the kind of personality that attracted theatre people. It wasn't even like he was a theatre major, no he picked journalism --- with a cross discipline minor from the criminal justice department --- which might be as far from theatre as he could get considering. But somehow during the stupid let's slowly adjust the freshmen to life on campus week, Sam had sat down for lunch only to be joined by a girl in all black with half a head of blue hair who introduced herself --- which was more than he could say for the other random people who had just walked up to him and asked him about dicks --- and asked if he had even had to apply to the film program.

"No wait, please tell me you're going theatre. Our box office would be so good if we could say we had the Vandal kid in our show." Kara had said.

Sam couldn't do much more than stare, mostly because he hadn't been given any opportunity to actually say anything. But when it seemed like she was actually waiting for answer Sam had said, "I'm in journalism."

She had cocked her head to the side, like if she just changed her angle Sam's answer would change as well. He hadn't felt so uncomfortably pinned in place since the last uncomfortable Vandal interview that he'd had to do. He hadn't squirmed in his seat, because he was better trained than that both as an amateur high school actor and as an amateur interviewer of high school criminals. "That's not a deal breaker, you could still audition. We're doing Into the Woods, you've got a Jack face."

"I-"

"Yeah, no, I can see it. Who are you here with? Not your boy, obviously, everyone on campus would be talking about it if Sam  _ and  _ Peter from American Vandal were going to school here."

"Just-" Sam started to say it was just him. That even though Peter had also gotten into this school, and he could have gone here if he wanted to --- why he had felt the immediate impulse to defend the fact that Peter had decided not to go to school here every. single. time. someone asked where Peter was Sam wasn't sure --- they had both decided that it would be better if they went to different schools. He was even going to add that it was exactly for that reason. They were more than just Sam and Peter from American Vandal. They were Sam. And Peter. Separate people who under the recommendations of both of their parents realized that maybe it would be good that they weren't at the same school anyway since they'd been attached at the hip since the third grade.

Sam had started to say that, or at least a close approximation to all the things he had been thinking about since he and Peter had moved out of Oceanside and into their new lives as college students, but he'd been cut off again. "Here by yourself, that's what I thought. Not anymore, we're adopting you. You're one of ours now." She motioned behind them to a pair with trays loaded up with food from the cafeteria and was moving toward Kara. "The tall one who looks like an elf from Lord of the Rings if they realized people of color existed is Sissy, they're a theater major who's actually here to act. The one with the Wesley Crusher hair and the butch aesthetic is Tati, she's another techie and she knows krav maga so she can kick the ass of anyone who is just trying to be friends with you because you happen to be famous."

"And you aren't?" Sam asked, because she finally stopped talking long enough for him to ask the question that he had been worried about since leaving the safe bubble of Hanover and people who didn't care that his face was on Netflix.

"All you did was accidentally go viral, anyone can do that. Sissy has had a bunch of tumblr posts go viral enough to end up on buzzfeed lists and Tati has been retweeted by Mara Wilson. So like who cares."

"Oh, okay, cool," Sam said, keeping the straightest face he was capable of. Trying not to reveal how excited he was that he wasn't going to spend all four years at school without any friends.

"Good, cause I only care if you're famous if it's going to boost our box office. The department needs a bigger budget so we can do better shows and get better equipment."

The semi-uncomfortable silence of two strangers who were maybe about to become friends pulled up a chair at the table between Sam and Kara. Then Sissy and Tati joined them, the silence shoved aside as the table filled and Sam asked, "So what classes is everyone taking this semester?"

And it was nice. Different certainly than his friendship with Peter or with Gabi. Different even than the friendships he had with DeMarcus or Kevin or Chloe. Sam was a chill dude, he thought anyway, he made friendships easily when he put a little effort in. He was affable --- to put to use all of those SAT prep courses his mom made him take. It was nice, in a way to have a shallow friendship that hadn't been forged in the fires of youth or criminal investigation. It was just nice to know that he would have someone that he could eat lunch with when he was on campus or who would invite him to places and parties, even if he had become what his grandma would call a homebody since leaving for college. It was even kind of nice keeping that tie to theater, even if Sam didn't audition for Into the Woods like Kara had wanted or the department's straight play like Tati wanted.

And while it wasn't the kind of friendship that would lead to an eight part docuseries or anything, Sam was open to it --- Peter still had his weird friendship with Dylan that Sam didn't understand, and it had developed from a place of semi-dislike for the guy that wouldn't stop filming Madison's chest instead of her face while she was trying to do her segment. If nothing else it was nice to have someone who would go to see the student productions with, Peter would always go with him but Sam knew he preferred the way cinema acting was done over theatre staging --- it was why the self-proclaimed film buff had trouble sitting through anything that was more than a couple decades old, even if he would deny it.

Sam still wasn't sure about going to a bad party with them though. Lately all of the parties he's been to have been for promoting or celebrating, and Netflix knew where to spend their money.

He wasn't sure about the party, that is, until he walked through his front door to see Peter with his computer open in front of him curled  almost into a fetal position on the couch staring at the screen with the kind of blank look Sam would expect from an undead creature of a Romero film. It didn't help that Peter had been in that same position when Sam had gotten up that morning, like seven hours ago.

"Dude, I know you don't have class on Tuesday but have you moved today, like at all? Or fuck, Pete, have you slept in the last 24 hours?" Sam asked as he did his best impression of an 80's jazzercise video as he tried to get a glimpse of Peter's face.

"Hmm," Peter's response was not so much words as it was an exhale or an acknowledgement of Sam's new presence in the room.

"Peter, seriously, what are you even doing? Is that the same shirt you were wearing yesterday, gross, dude."

"No, uh, I mean yes shirt. I think I slept for a couple hours, what time is it?"

Peter's sleep deprived disorientation made him slower than usual, not like Sam wasn't a pro at getting things Peter had that he wanted away from Peter, and Sam turned his laptop screen so he could see what was on it. Sam wasn't entirely surprised to see that it was an editing project, and he had the feeling he would be even less surprised --- and maybe channel even more of this loving concern that was broiling inside of him --- if he could see just how long Peter had been working on this project.

"Are you serious?"

"I got caught in the working flow. I just want it to be good," Peter said, answering the subtextual questions that Sam had asked.

"This is an editing 101 class. You're learning how to use like Premier. This is literally just a class designed so film majors can decide if they're going to stick it out or if they're going to switch to a Psych or Communications major like their moms want."

"It's my midterm, Sam, this is like thirty percent of my grade."

"Peter!" Sam didn't raise his voice, it wasn't necessary really when Sam was leaning across the arm of the couch so close to Peter  that if Sam's arm wasn't braced on the couch cushion --- hand so, so close to Peter's thigh --- he could tip over into Peter's lap. "Peter, you have an actual editing credit on IMDB are you kidding me with this shit."

"I can't just be the Vandal guy, Sam, this needs to be perfect or-" Peter's argument would have made more of an impact if he hadn't yawned in the middle of whatever his point was about to be.

"Or what, Peter? You burn yourself out trying to prove yourself to people who wish they could do what we've- you've already done? It's an intro class, Pete, this isn't your senior project or anything, you don't have to spend eight hours on a midterm that most of the class is going to bullshit in two."

"Fifteen..."

Sam felt his elbow buckle beneath him, and he found himself with his head level with Peter's chest looking up at him while Sam pretended that he hadn't caught himself with a hand on that thigh that he had been so close to a second ago. He felt his traitorous complexion start to color, a heat pooling at his ears and in his cheeks. "That's it, no more of this."

"What?" Sam had a hard time deciding if Peter's confusion came from sleep deprivation or from a genuine confusion at Sam's segue.

Sam didn't have to force himself to move further away from Peter, because that was definitely the natural impulse to create a normal friendly distance between himself and Peter and not continue to have this or any conversation while his hand was on Peter's thigh and Sam could look up at him at that flattering angle that made his lashes look so delicate and his eyes so soft. Sam only had the hand that was on Peter's thigh to use as leverage, and pushed himself up without thinking at all about the deceptive strength that was in there.

Hashtag just bro things.

"We're going out this weekend." Sam declared, his arms crossed over his chest in what was definitely a no nonsense gesture and definitely not an excuse to just keep his hands somewhere that was safe from himself. "There's a party at the Hive on Friday and we're going to go."

"Sam, are  _ you _ serious? No."

"What, Peter!" Sam hadn't even wanted to go to this party but now that he had the idea to take Peter and use it to get him away from his perfectionistic editing spiral he really wanted to go. "You can't spend your whole weekend curled around your computer come on, your midterm project is going to kick ass. Go out with me."

Sam's blood rushed to fill his face so fast his head spun, and its speed was rivaled only by how quickly Peter's eyes jumped up to look at Sam.

"Sammy, what? Obviously it's not- I want to go out with you, but I don't even have a fake? Can't we go to like the movies instead of some club?"

He was torn between laughing at Peter and being hopelessly endeared by Peter, and then laughing at him. So Sam picked the second one. "Dude, what, no. It's a house party. Also like how do you not have a fake, dude c'mon you're friends with Dylan Maxwell."

Peter wrinkled his nose, the movement pushing his glasses farther up his face making them tilt to the left slightly where the earpiece had been bent the last time he fell asleep with them on when they stayed up too late watching movies; one of those familiar Peter gestures that made Sam's whole body feel warm for some reason at the familiar sight of it. Peter was embarrassed. "If it's a house why does it have a name?"

"Because a bunch of theatre kids live there and that's just how they are."

Sam pulled his phone out, formulating a careful message so that he could figure out what time the party actually started, Peter was asking questions now they were as good as going.

He texted Sissy:  _ what time is the thing and why are you wearing a costume _ ; because they were less likely to give him shit immediately for caving within four hours of telling Kara that he most definitely without a doubt was not going to this party ever.

**!!!** ****  
**@ 10 after the cabaret** **  
** **its a miscast costume party so do something fun**

guest list?

**theatre preferred** **  
** **but youre an honorary**

Sam was almost impressed, when the notification popped that he had a text from Kara, that it had taken her a full two minutes before she learned he was coming. Sissy had to ask about the guest list, he imagined, they flowed through life with an attitude that suggested they were above even the idea of needing an invitation and it usually served them well. Perks of winning the Tolkien genetic lottery, he guessed.

Kara even managed to sound smug through text:  **bring your boy youre famous, fuck the guest list** **  
** And then another:  **we wont hold it against you if you skip cabaret, commuter**

He swiped them away without from his notification bar, not wanting to even give her the satisfaction of knowing that he had read them yet. But sent Sissy a quick thanks because she knew how to not be a complete dick about everything all the time and called Peter by name instead of always calling him Sam's boy, like he didn't have a name at all or like he was some extension of Sam's belonging or something.

It was something he thought a lot about, but not tonight.

"What do you think about putting together matching costumes, like we used to."

Halloween had always been one of Sam's favorite times of year as a kid it had been for the candy and the dressing up. Now as a gay it was still one of his favorites but that was more for the feeling of Halloween.

One of the most fun parts about dressing up as a kid though had been all the fun he had had matching with Peter. Their costumes had never been especially original --- power rangers and ninja turtles were the staples of the boy side of the costume aisle. There was something --- probably something psychological --- that just made dressing up more fun when it meant he was part of a set.

Whether it meant they were Batman and Superman --- their 4th grade Halloween party.

Or they both went as Harry Potter characters --- Halloween the year they turned 12, Sam had just read the books and convinced Peter even though he didn't care about wizards at all.

Or that year they were Power Rangers for the second time but this time it was ironic --- freshman year, the only irony Sam saw was that they hadn't been invited anywhere and had worn two different iterations of the pink ranger outfit while they ate the candy they'd stolen from Peter's mom and watched horror movies.

They hadn't dressed up for Halloween since that night they'd been surprised to find each other not only in theme, but wearing what was basically the same costume. He was actually a little excited, not only for this excuse to be a little stupid in the middle of the year for no reason but to have that round table discussion that they used to have back when the most important decision they had to make for the year was what they were going to be for Halloween.

"Are you sure this is actually a costume party, and not some Legally Blonde-esque joke that you aren't in on." Peter asked.

"As excited as you making that Legally Blonde reference just got me, I'm positive that this is a real thing. Gays love a theme, Pete, this is totally legit."

Peter hummed in response, now that his screen wasn't immediately in his face, Sam could see the tired starting to catch up to him. "Do I really need to go?"

"Yes, Peter!" Sam said, upset suddenly that Peter might leave him to go out by himself. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying, and probably failing, to seem like he hadn't gotten upset at almost nothing. "If you don't go you're going to sit here and work yourself into the ground like you did three months ago with the final Vandal cuts, and this is totally not worth anything close to that."

"Fine," Peter agreed, he didn't sound as begrudging as Sam thought he would, but it was probably just the tired that made him agree so quickly. Peter had been known to get a little loopy when he was tired, that smile that had started curling around his face as he looked up at Sam could be the first sign. "What are you thinking, I know you've already got some ideas."

"I think we need to lean into the Vandal thing. I know we don't but like it's going to be the only thing people talk about."

"So..." Peter trailed off, leaving Sam to finish his own idea. Because he wanted to embarrass Sam by making him finish the idea he thought was dumb or because he really couldn't figure out where the dots were going, Sam wasn't sure.

"So like detectives or something, famous investigative duos, y'know like Sherlock Homes and Watson."

"Granada or BBC?" Peter asked.

"Uh?"

Peter shook his head, body swaying just slightly with the motion, Sam moved closer in case this conversation was the thing that finally took Peter out --- he really should have been paying closer attention, he knew how Peter could get and how his mom friend instincts rarely got applied to himself, like the ultimate mom. "Too on the nose," he said, once his body stilled.

"Okay," Sam said, sliding into the chair that made up the other half of the ninety degree angle of their living room furniture. Close enough now to Peter that he could have this conversation and also move him to a more comfortable position on the couch if he fell asleep mid-sentence like he had the last time he'd spent a night panic editing. "What about the Hardy Boys?"

"Aren't they brothers?" Peter asked.

"I don't know Peter, I wasn't born in 1940 I haven't actually read any of them."

Sam watched as Peter's nose still wrinkled in distaste. "Pass. What about something more modern?"

"Than a book series that's older than our parents, if you've got ideas..."

"What about the Buzzfeed Unsolved guys?"

"You don't have to lie and pretend you don't know their names."

"Whatever," Peter said, "it could be good for our SEO."

"Is that something we're worried about?" Sam asked, taking a second to actually try to picture just what their costumes would look like and coming out with a lot of plaid shirts and jeans. It would make for a good post, maybe even a cameo if they played their cards right, which Sam wouldn't be totally opposed to Peter was more of a fan of the True Crime seasons Sam had heard the episodes through their walls, but Sam wanted to fight a ghost.

Opportunities to meet a fellow minor Internet celebrity aside, the costume wouldn't be a costume so much as raiding their closets and shouting catchphrases all night. And it was supposed to be a miscast party, Peter not sticking totally to theme would be one thing, but Sam was sure he would get shit for it even if he hadn't even been planning on going to the party at all.

"Too many people are expecting that one," Sam lied. "What about a classic?"

Peter's brows furrowed in obvious thought, obviously following Sam's train of thought. "A classic?"

"The Scooby gang, they're like the ultimate teen crime fighters."

"There were like five of them, there's only two of us."

"Four people, and it's a recognizable character design, even with just two."

"You aren't worried about another freshman year situation?" Peter asked.

Sam smiled, an idea already forming about just what his costume would be . "Nah, I think we'll be fine."

Sam prepared his costume in secret, not from his friends who had fought so hard to get him to come, but from Peter. He didn't have long to get his costume pieced together, and relied on Tati's costuming wisdom to make what was in his head a reality. By Friday night, when Sam had rushed home to get Peter and get ready, Sam was pretty happy with what had come together.

Sam Ecklund as Daphne Blake, detective and fashion bicon.

The monochromatic looked pretty good, surprisingly --- or maybe not when Daphne had been rocking it since '69. The soft pink v-neck with the dark purple jeans were already a look, and being worn a lot tighter than Sam usually chose to at Kara's leering recommendation. He'd slipped up and told Gabi what he was doing as he was live texting some of the stranger things they'd talked about and she drove in from LA to hand deliver the thin green scarf he had tied around his neck. He even kind of liked how it drew attention to his neck, Gabi had shown him how to tie it and now he regretted, a little bit, telling her that he felt like a flight attendant. The shoes were probably his favorite part, a thrift store find that Sissy had grabbed, the same muted green color as the scarf, the ankle boots had a heel Sam wasn't used to but he wasn’t mad at what they did for his legs.

It was a look. Full stop. He kept his hair its natural brown, mostly because he couldn't be bothered but a little bit because he's a narcissist and he wasn't going to spray dye it cause that looked bad; and every wig he found looked faker than that guy on Riverdale.

He pulled off his thottiest pose to send a snap to Gabi, not bothering like he once had with making sure it was the most flattering picture. Caption: Dat ass is this why girls wear heels all the time?

Just to Gabi. The picture was fine, the caption was funny, normally it would be story material but well it wasn't good enough that he wanted to risk Peter seeing. Not before he had a chance to see it live and in person at least.

Peter, who should be ready any second since Sam heard him walk through the door not long after he had and probably wouldn't need as long to get ready as Sam had taken. Sam wondered if he wouldn't channel his inner Dylan and go as Shaggy.

Sam wondered right up until he saw Peter, and then Sam didn't do much thinking at all.

Peter was Velma. Peter  _ was _ Velma. Sam was Daphne and Peter was Velma, they hadn't just come up with matching costumes they had come up with a couple's costume. Sam was Daphne and Peter was in a red and orange flannel --- new because Sam somehow knew every plaid shirt that Peter had in his closet --- with the top buttons undone and no t-shirt underneath (collarbone, Sam wasn't sure he had ever seen Peter's collarbone). The sleeves were rolled to the elbow, lean and tanned forearm on display drawing Sam's eye down to the magnifying glass in his hand.

Sam felt struck, looking at Peter's tiny half-smile. An emotion he wasn't sure how to handle suddenly rearing its head like a monster in a mansion. Well gang looks like we've got a mystery on our hands.

Could his conscious mind split up and search for clues?

Clue #1: Sam was suddenly worried about how he looked in front of a guy he's known since before he went through puberty.

Clue #2: Sam was distracted by and alarmingly drawn to an amount of skin that an especially flirtatious Victorian maiden might put on display.

Clue #3: Sam was in crisis because Peter had a prop and was going someplace where he wouldn't know anyone but Sam and was almost definitely going to spend the night very close to Sam and distractingly playing with that prop.

Clue #4: Sam had called Peter distracting more than once.

Let's see just who is behind that mask.

Sam might be attracted to Peter. Sam might have always been attracted to Peter? Sam is pretty sure that he isn't just conflating the fact that the Internet has convinced him to ship Daphne and Velma with the fact that he finds Peter and his smile and his glasses and his forearms very attractive right now.

"Jinkies," Sam didn't say it so much as the word left his body with his exhale.

Peter's smile was as soft as his shirt looked, his eyes cast down and then back up at Sam. "I think that's supposed to be my catchphrase, but I'll allow it."

"No, it's just- Yeah, I didn't think- Velma was a good choice, Pete, fucking jeepers."

Peter's laugh was so small, Sam probably wouldn't have even heard it if he weren't literally hanging off of every word and expression that Peter made. "What? Did you expect something different?"

"I don't know," Sam said, lying. He was lying while he ogled his best friend and wondered who the hell got him to buy jeans that fit so well. "Maybe Fred or something. He was the fearless leader with a head for engineering."

"I'm a film major," Peter reminded, like Sam needed to be reminded that Peter ‘@PMProductions’ Maldonado was a film major, "just because I'm better than you at math doesn't mean I have a 'head for engineering.'"

"No, it just means you're a traitor to all good gay stereotypes."

"Are you ready to go?" Peter asked.

No, I want to stay here and hide while I try to figure out whatever these new emotions are. No, I don't really want to enter what will now be a pool of strangely emotionally aware theater people who will pounce on me like they can smell the romantic affection in the air. No, Peter I kinda just want to stay here and sit on the couch with you while you play horror movies I didn't even know existed and see how close I can get before you ask me if something's up.

"Yeah, sure if we leave now we might get there in time to only be fashionably late instead of just late."

Sam was a creature of regret and nothing else. He was at least pretending it was because all house parties almost always universally sucked (Nana's party maybe being the one exception but he declined his invite to that one because no one had invited Peter), like his options were: a living room with the sofa pushed slightly out of the way where someone had a spotify playlist going through someone's like bluetooth speaker, but not loud enough to really be good so that they didn't get a noise complaint; the kitchen where at least two different girls in two different conversations were crying mostly because they were already just outrageously drunk at eleven o'clock; or the back porch where it was not only cold but that was where all the tech kids had gone out to smoke, and not even smoke weed just a weird mix of clove cigarettes and vape pens had been pulled out and the smell wafted in to the kitchen every time the door opened.

It was mostly because Peter had abandoned him, abandoned him, within seconds of walking through the door because some drunk techie had asked about his opinions on dramatic lighting or some shit.

Or no, it was mostly because Peter left him and no sooner had that happened than Sam had been caught in the clutches of his three so-called friends. Literal clutches too, Kara had grabbed a hold of his arm so tightly to pull him into some room that Sam was pretty sure his arm as bruised now.

"Your boy is even cuter in person, no wonder you kept him away. Micah is already trying to stake a claim," Kara said, dressed as a less conservative Elder Price.

"Hush," Sissy said, their T-bird jacket draped on their shoulders more than it was actually on, "I think their couple's costume is cute."

"The shoes looked better than I thought they would," Tati said, hair bleached and dressed in all pink as Elle Woods.

Sam couldn't do much more than stare back at them. Taking in too much information for his distracted brain to be able to process it all and respond with a trademark joke.

"Oh shit," Kara said, looking sincere and nervous in a way that Sam didn't like.

"I told you, you were reading into things," Tati said.

"Oh, well, it's okay really," Sissy said, they had a hard time dealing with uncomfortable situations that hadn't been scripted.

"I'm not having this conversation," Sam said, his gay panic would be his own just like it had been when he walked out of Captain America with a lot of questions and only some of them had to do with the MCU.

"You need to have this conversation," Tati said, "just not with any of us I don't think. Definitely not with 'can't handle confrontation' and 'make a joke until the joke gets real and feel bad about it' here, but if you need a sensible person to talk about it with later..."

Sam smiled, a feeling that wasn't quite relief but more like gratefulness filled him crises could be hard but he appreciated the dry reassurance Tati offered. His mistake, because one had to be made Sam's life didn't allow for him to escape from situations like this without some kind of something coming along to knock him on his ass, was then making eye contact with Peter from across the room.

Peter, who smiled back at Sam with that beautiful, earnest face. Peter, who had been talking to Micah but --- and Sam wasn't going to be happy about this --- who walked away as concern bloomed across his face at whatever he noticed in Sam. Peter, who was coming this way.

His first impulse was retreat, to disappear further into this party and not reappear until the cops were called to bust it up, everyone else had left, or he had gotten himself drunk and/or high enough that he could spend an hour in the car with Peter and not lose his mind. An impulse that was immediately thwarted, in almost comic Scooby Doo fashion, by three pairs of hands grabbing on to his arms and shoulders, pushing him out of the room he had been in, into the kitchen, and directly into Peter's path.

And as he stumbled, unused to the shift in balance that a heeled shoe required, directly into Peter's arms.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked. Sam assumed he asked, his focus was pretty much shot thanks to a fun combination of relationship panic and the sight of Peter's jawline from the angle he was at.

"Uhm, yeah. Fine, of course, everything's fine."

Peter's hands were warm, so warm, on Sam's bare arm. He helped Sam back to his feet, moving him with that same deceptive strength that hauled all of that camera equipment around, studying him with a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, you look so fine," Peter agreed.

"Right, so were good." Sam said, "You can go back to whoever  _ that _ was you were talking to."

Peter's expression hardened. He was so rarely mad that when he expressed it, it was always an event. Sam just wasn't so excited that it seemed like he'd said something to bring it out.

"Are you serious right now, Sam?"

He didn't cause scenes, even in a full on rage Peter hated to be the center or anyone else's attention if he could avoid it. His voice was pitched low, level, just for Sam but it carried a weight to it that made it clear how much trouble he was in.

"What? I didn't ask you to come over here," Sam said.

Sam who had the opposite problem. Who attracted theater kids like the pied piper, knew how to cause a scene and causing a scene meant that the problem went away faster. A screaming, embarrassing argument that everyone could make their business was created for the storm off. Sam was made for the storm off, he wanted to say a bunch of shit he only half meant, slam a door and walk away so that he didn't have to have a real heart to heart where actual issues were discussed.

But he liked- respected- trusted- felt too many things to accurately or appropriately name them for Peter to raise his voice in the middle of the crowded kitchen. Instead of the shout Sam imagined in his head, his words were hushed, harsh and hurt.

"No," Peter agreed, "but you asked me to come. I'm getting some mixed messages, Sammy." The 'I don't know what to do with the difference between what you're saying and what I'm seeing' hung implied and unsaid between them. 

"I just wanted to get you out of the house, Pete."

"No," Peter was firm. "I'm so sick of this. You want to know what I think is going on, honestly."

No, I want to delay this as long as possible. I don't want your honesty, honesty is only going to lead to a half-meant apology about unrequited feelings and having to find a new place to live.

"When have I ever stopped you from being honest, Peter?"

"You're infuriating. The most difficult person I know, if we're being real."

"Thanks."

"And you never shut up and listen, 'cause I have a point, Sam, if you'll let me actually get to it." Peter paused, pinning Sam in place with that look of impatient waiting that he one hundred percent got from his mom.

"Sam, you're the smartest person I know. Like intuition and just connecting patterns and seeing things that I've missed. But Sam, you can be so fucking dumb." Sam barely had the time to preen before Peter was smacking him back again, there was hardly enough time to deal with that emotional whiplash before Peter kept going, "Like honestly, Sammy, I don't really know what else to do other than just say it, I kinda thought we were finally on the same page, but you've been so weird lately."

"So say it," Sam said, arms wrapped loosely around himself in the drafty, smokey kitchen the dull throb of the party happening around them doing nothing to distract him from the conversation he was currently having with Peter.

Peter's sigh was short and soft, resignation to a conversation neither of them were ready to have but should have started earlier than this. "I like you. I've got feelings for  _ you _ , Sam Ecklund, had feelings since like sophomore year. Now we've lived together, twice, and I'm standing in a dirty kitchen at a shitty house party dressed as Velma, so if you don't kiss me or say something you queer disaster I'm going to-"

While he had had the formative experience of camp, Sam really hoped that this wasn't Peter's first real kissing experience --- anything that had happened on a playground or before 14 didn't count, obviously --- cause it was bad. The angle was bad. Their teeth clacked together and sent the worst kind of shiver down Sam's spine. Glasses were digging into Sam's cheeks so they had to be biting into Peter's. He could feel that stupid magnifying glass pressing into his chest through the pocket of Peter's shirt.

But they corrected. And Peter's lips were soft against his. He could feel the pleased smile against his face. The way Peter fits in his arms, the loose hold Sam had had around himself now wrapped around Peter's waist. The way that Peter's arms wrapped around his body, one hand sliding into his hair and the other into his back pocket, in a move so smooth someone had to have coached him on it.

It was perfect.

"Sorry," Sam said as they parted, "I think I cut off your ultimatum."

"You're the worst, I hate you, I'm still going to move in with Dylan and you know the second hand smoke would be my asthmatic death and you'll have to live with the knowledge that you killed me in the style of a liek if you cry evertim meme." He was smiling, he was joking, his mouth was barely an inch from Sam's and hadn't moved since their kiss. Sam tightened his hold around Peter's waist, like that would keep him from leaving.

"I've just come to terms with a lot of emotions, and if you leave I'll respect that and not run into traffic before the green man comes on the sign."

"So emotionally mature," Peter said, his teasing undercut but the kiss he pressed to the corner of Sam's mouth.

"We can't all hold onto crushes for three years in miserable silence, sorry for actually doing something."

"Babe, we've been in a committed relationship since senior year. I let you buy me a corsage for prom-"

"It was supposed to be a joke," Sam pulled far enough away that he could really look at Peter without going cross eyed. "Oh shit it wasn't a joke."

"Jinkies, you solved it."

"Dickhead. Were you ever going to say something? Or just leave me to figure it out on my own."

"I've watched your work with string," Peter said, wearing a smile Sam was just realizing that he had seen before and his heart flipped in his chest as he noticed how fond it looked, "I knew you'd figure it out eventually." Sam was just far enough to watch that expression shift into something more bashful and a lot more familiar.

"But," Sam prompted.

"But Jenna and Dylan agreed that a push in the right direction might be helpful."

"Jenna  _ and _ Dylan?"

"Well Dylan was like, dude you should say something so you can actually do some shit with your boy before you die."

"Spot on Dylan."

"Jenna is the one who suggested Velma, well she suggested making it a couple's costume instead of matching, but the making the lesbian dream couple a reality was implied. I think."

"How did Jenna know?"

"Law of averages," Peter lied. "Or she maybe heard it from Gabi."

"And why did she hear it from Gabi!" Sam shouted. The restraint he had shown earlier completely gone, much like Peter, as he shouts.

"They're both at UCLA, they hooked up at some LGBT group thing. It's still new, and neither one of are supposed to know yet. Can we get back to us, please."

Peter's soft begging eyes were fucking lethal, Sam couldn't help but melt in the middle of this stupid kitchen. "Yeah, yeah I won't be mad at Jenna since she provided so much help."

"Are we, y'know, good. I'm sorry I didn't-"

Sam didn't have Peter's lethal sad eyes but he had the demanding pout and grabby hands of someone who'd spent most of his life the middle child, he reeled Peter back in. "Don't apologize, that's so stupid. Of course we're good." Sam's eyes darted to the floor, and back up, watching Peter from the corner of his eye, "I mean jeepers, it would just be real swell if you'd go steady with me."

"Shut up. I don't know why I like you."

"Because who else understands you the way I do?"

"Apparently not even you, since it took a minimum of five people to make you realize that we'd been dating for almost a year."

"Since you've been occupying the same personal space bubble is it safe for us to leave," Kara asked, killing the mood and proving Peter right.

Three heads popped out of a room that was way too close to Sam for their entire conversation to not have been eavesdropped on. But Sam couldn't deny that he was pleased when Peter didn't step away. Tati, Sam's new favorite, disappeared into the crowd of theater kids without a word. Sissy joined her, after they gave Sam a smile that he thought might be one part apology for interrupting. Kara had to take one more parting shot, "I doubt you're going to go find a room here, see you Monday we are so going to talk about this."

Sam had horrible friends, except when he didn't. Without a little healthy intervention, there was really no telling what would have had to happen to get Sam to realize all of his confusing impulses and soft thoughts about Peter were actual romantic affection and not just a new developing queer platonic affection. The realization hit him as hard as the alcohol had hit the girl who was quietly sobbing on the couch that was in the corner of the kitchen for some reason. Sam groaned.

"What, I mean they were a little overbearing but it's not like you weren't going to have to tell Gabi about this. You were- I mean we are telling people-?"

"No, Yes, I mean yes we're telling people, obviously. I just mean, ugh, we- this wouldn't have happened without those meddling kids."

"You're mad about the-"

"I'm mad about the theme!"

"It makes for a good story."

It did make for a good story. It made Peter look good, Sam look like an idiot, and there was even a theme. All that was missing was a dog, but then Sam figured you couldn't have everything.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://formosusiniquis.tumblr.com/)


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